Feet Firmly on the Ground
by Aldesina
Summary: A look at what Commodore James Norrington might have thought that night after he relinquished Elizabeth to Will. It's a short little fic that shows the softer side of Norrington that we saw in the deleted scenes, but not the movie


Feet Firmly on the Ground

By   Aldesina

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Author's Note: Just a little Norrington drabble that happened to pop into my head one night. It refused to leave me alone until I got it down on paper. It takes place the night after Commodore Norrington honorably gave Elizabeth up to Will. For all you Norrington fans out there, enjoy!

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Commodore James Norrington shifted, pursed his lips and turned on his right side, unable to get to sleep, unable to get comfortable. He was too cold one minute, and too hot the next. And just when the sweet languid feeling of relaxation was beginning to overtake his exhausted body, he would get a leg cramp. 

Damnation would this endless torture ever cease? James finally gave up, gave in to the insomnia and rolled to the side of his bed, swinging his legs over the side. James slept shirtless, something that most people probably didn't expect of the stiff necked commodore. They most likely thought he slept in one of those ridiculous nightshirts that the men of fashion liked to wear. High necked and frilly with a matching pair of silk breeches. James didn't wear breeches to bed. They were far too uncomfortable and tight to sleep in. He already had to wear the contraption on a daily basis, should he have to suffer at night too? Instead James slept in a pair of pants. Loose, baggy and far too big for him, they hung low on his hips; the drawstring ends hanging down his front. He was once told by the silly man that _used_ to make his clothing for him that pants were only worn by common pirates. James had snorted at him and asked the man if he had ever tried on a pair. Horrified the man said no. He was probably just afraid that he would get hung or something. James then proceeded to tell him that pants are much more breathable then breeches because they don't bind a man, nor to they appear to make him look like a trussed up turkey. He then stared at the man long and hard, making his tailor's face turn pale and his eyes start to blink rapidly. James then jokingly asked if his tailor thought _he_ looked like a trussed up turkey. The man never questioned his taste in wardrobe again. Then again, James never went to the man for a fitting again either. 

James sighed, and buried his head in his hands with his elbows propped up on his thighs. He stared down at his torso; pale and white, a stark contrast to his hands, face and neck, which were darker, and slightly bronzed from the sun. Great, the blasted navy had made him into a two toned freak. He took a breath and sighed letting his head droop back and allowing the rest of his body to follow. He laid there, his back on the soft comforter, and his legs dangling over the bed, feet firmly on the ground.

He snorted then chuckled, and then outright laughed. Feet firmly on the ground indeed! He laughed at himself, shaking with mirth until tears ran down his face. James moaned miserably realizing that he wasn't crying of mirth. He was just crying. Fool. His mind called him. Iron fisted bastard fool. The Lord, the bloody King of all iron fisted bastard fools. He turned over on his side, drawing his legs up to his torso and hugged them to himself as the tears leaked out of his eyes.

            How could he have even entertained the thought that he could compete in the matters of the heart against William Turner? Young, devilishly handsome and ridiculously naïve William Turner. Turner, who would have gave up his life for Elizabeth. Turner, who would have lost everything he had to save her. Turner, who loved her with such a passion that his own love and adoration for Elizabeth paled to Will's, like the moonlight pales in comparison to the sun's brilliant rays. Not like he hadn't tried for Christ's sake. He set out to save her; he planned out everything to his maximum capacity. He, God, he even went after her _beloved_ just so she would marry him. 

            James groaned and hid his face, like he wanted to when he agreed to go after the Turner boy as a wedding present. She certainly didn't lie about the rescue as being a wedding present; she just didn't specify who it was for. He wanted to curl up into a little ball at that point, his heart was jumping for joy, yet his mind laughed cruelly at him; you should have known better, it spat. He must have seemed like a fool in front of his men that day. The captain of the Dauntless must have had a good laugh at his expense, and the entire crew must have joined him. Why had he agreed to do it? He had proclaimed loudly to one and all that it was because Will was a citizen of the Great Britain and therefore under his protection. Now he couldn't tell whether that had been his saving grace or the last shovel of dirt on his grave. He believed most firmly it was the latter of the two for surely his heart must be buried deep underground for it to be so heavy. 

            James sighed, he was being melodramatic again. He rolled over onto his stomach, cushioning his chin on his arms. His eyes wandered around his room, not focusing on one thing or another, and not really seeing anything. A small shaft of moonlight shone through his window and he was reminded instantly of the pirates aboard the Dauntless that night. He had lost so many good men to them. He had needlessly lost so many good men to them, had he not agreed….. he shook his head and sighed. It was too late to say that now. He closed his eyes and tried to block out all sense of thought, as though that would will him to sleep. 

            Alas he was still restless and James once again swung his feet across the bed and down the side. He stood up and walked over to his balcony opening up the French doors and going outside. The night air was calm and cool, salty and fresh like the ocean. Must be high tide, James thought as he looked up at the full moon looming above him. It was full tonight, shining brightly illuminating the sky with its silver light. You still care for her. His mind probed him again. James sighed, would nothing stop him from thinking of that incident? 

The man within that had been trained in the military, who had been his voice of reason and discipline told him it's better for him this way because then he could fully devote his time to his career and not have to worry about a wife being unfaithful.

 The part of him ruled by his heart  told the military man that Elizabeth was a fine woman and would never cheat on him, plus she might actually help loosen him up, and soothe out the poor stiff shoulders that he had every night.

No, no, the military man said, one must be strong on one's own. 

No man is an island, the part of his mind ruled by his heart countered. 

This isn't isolating anything, it's merely putting priorities in the correct order. 

Is it so wrong to want someone who would take care of me for once instead of me taking care of myself? 

James's eyes widened, Damnation, Get over it. This is just great, James thought, I think I've gone mad, I'm here on a balcony staring at the moon and my mind is howling insults at, well, my mind, he thought ruefully. 

James shook his head, and breathed in deeply. You know, there were certain times, just some of them that. James sighed. Not that he was wrong, but there were some times when he thought he was too harsh. Sometimes when he just wished he could have followed his heart, and sought his own happiness instead of sacrificing it all for others. I can't possibly be so damned that I don't deserve a meager bit of joy. And James was not speaking of the joy that a man could achieve through his career, but instead of the joy a man could receive from love. Jubilation of the heart, as opposed to the mind. He deserved that. He knew he did. Perhaps tomorrow, when this ache had passed, and it would pass, he swore to himself.  Tomorrow he would look. And perhaps he would find. Yes, tomorrow, he would keep an eye out, not for pirates, but perhaps for a young lady that catches his fancy. James looked up at the moon again. Or perhaps for a young lady who has fancied him? James straightened himself again. Yes there was always tomorrow, and there were other young ladies. Perhaps, he could find happiness in them and perhaps they could help wash away the loneliness that he felt at night. Perhaps they could take away his insomnia and finally at long last plant his feet firmly on the ground. 

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Author's note; I wouldn't mind turning this into a prologue for a longer fic, or just keeping it on its own. It seems to stand well enough. What do you think. Thank you for reading, and please review

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End file.
